


Hero to Villain to Free

by xXxAnimeBellxXx



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Aerith Is A Goddess Named Aeris, Like Really Big Timeskip, Nobody Recognizes Sephiroth By Appearance, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, That's How Big The Timeskip Is, Timeskip, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Transgender, Vincent Is A Therapist What
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-08 20:13:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3221912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXxAnimeBellxXx/pseuds/xXxAnimeBellxXx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate title: The One Where Sephiroth Is MtF Transgender</p><p>Literally the entire idea behind this was my over-tired brain thinking, "Lol what if Sephiroth was MtF but cuz of his upbringing/position he never figured out why he felt so wrong and the whole reason he listened to Jenova was cuz she said she could make him feel right in his own skin and yeah?"</p><p>So... Yeah... Kind of random, but... Um... I hope it's not too utterly horrible...? *hides*</p><p>~*~*~</p><p>The former General stared into the mirror, as he did every day, for what felt like a very long time, ever since he’d been returned to the surface of Gaia for what felt like the twentieth time, lacking one psychotic alien mind-mate. In a way, he supposed, the reason behind this little ritual could be considered some twisted form of vanity, but that seemed like a lie, even if he was the only one to know it. It couldn’t really be vanity, because that would imply that he <i>enjoyed</i> seeing the image his reflection presented him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The former General stared into the mirror, as he did every day, for what felt like a very long time, ever since he’d been returned to the surface of Gaia for what felt like the twentieth time, lacking one psychotic alien mind-mate. In a way, he supposed, the reason behind this little ritual could be considered some twisted form of vanity, but that seemed like a lie, even if he was the only one to know it. It couldn’t really be vanity, because that would imply that he  _enjoyed_  seeing the image his reflection presented him.  
  
Sighing softly to himself, he turned away from the image and went about getting ready for another day of wondering just what it was he was doing here. He had no right to walk on the Planet’s soil, not after what he’d tried to do to it. Admittedly, he hadn’t been in his right mind at the time, but that seemed a poor excuse. He had, after all, been the one to allow the Calamity into his mind in the first place.  
  
He had just been so horribly  _desperate._  It was appalling how pathetic he’d been. The Great General Sephiroth, willing to sell his very soul to the first being to tell him they could make it  _right._  The idea that he could feel comfortable in his own skin had been one that had rarely crossed his mind; it had just seemed so utterly hopeless. As soon as he caught even a glimpse of something like a possibility, he had thrown everything away at the drop of a hat, hardly considering any consequences his actions might have. What a fool he was.  
  
Turning away from his reflection, Sephiroth reached back over his head and began to braid his hair. He’d learned that it was far easier to manage this way, though he’d never had any trouble with that before. It was just a convenient excuse to make the luminescent strands wavier, less flawlessly—freakishly—straight when he let it down. It may seem selfish, but it made him feel more human, less like the offspring of the Calamity.  
  
More-or-less satisfied with his work, the tall ex-General turned on a slightly-raised brown leather heel (he’d decided to try his hand at a somewhat different wardrobe this time around) and made his way down the stairs to the main floor of the inn he was staying at. It had been many years since his attempt to bring about what would have been the end of the world, and the people no longer knew him on sight. It had been so long, his name had very nearly been forgotten, but his actions had not.  
  
Children learned about his battles against Cloud and the others in classes, the Cetra girl was heralded as a goddess in her own right. The local legend was that she appeared here on occasion, in an ancient church that had been rebuilt long ago. That was where he was going, where he’d gone every day since he’d woken up there, stark naked, hundreds of years since he’d last entered the Lifestream to be purged of the Calamity.  
  
As many people did, Sephiroth came and prayed to the woman he knew to be named Aerith, (though for some reason, everyone here called her Aeris) always asking what his purpose was here, why he’d been sent back to the Planet he’d betrayed.  
  
Of course she’d choose today, of all days, to actually appear before him. Exactly one month after he came here, he finally gets proof that all that he remembered, all that he’d done, hadn’t been something he’d dreamt up. His life had been real. So of course, the brunet was already laughing softly when she appeared, lightly curled fingers reaching up to partially hide the gentle smile, though nothing could hide the way emerald eyes danced in humour.  
  
“It’s nice to see you, Sephiroth,” she greeted pleasantly. When the silver haired man frowned in response, about to ask just why it would be ‘nice’ to see  _him,_  she spoke again, “I just thought I’d come and try to help you out a little. You’ve been pretty confused, right? The fact of the matter is, the Planet’s decided to give you another chance, with no threat from the Calamity to keep you from living the life you choose.”  
  
That… gave him pause. The only thing he could think of to say was, “She’s finally been destroyed, then…?” For some reason, the brunet laughed softly again and nodded once. “You’re sure?” He had to be certain. Though he felt horrible for it, a small part of him mourned at the loss of his one, tiny glimmer of hope at comfort in his body. The Calamity had been terrible, yes, and she’d done horrible things to the Planet, but while under her control, Sephiroth had not felt the need to tear off his skin and gouge out his eyeballs from an overwhelming sense of  _wrongness_  that now controlled his life, as mercilessly as she herself had.  
  
“Yes, Jenova is no more.” Sephiroth only nodded once. So that was that, then. “But...” Or… not…? “While the Calamity couldn’t help with your body issues, I might know someone who can…”  
  
Breath hitching slightly in his throat, the former General stared at the smiling young woman with widened eyes. There truly was a way for him to feel right? To not feel like his skin was an ill-fitting suit he couldn’t remove? After all this time… He could be…  
  
“Please… Tell me…”


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY!!!
> 
> I know I'm a terrible excuse for an author, I know this is really, really late, I know it's short! I HAVE NO EXCUSE JUST APOLOGIES HERE TAKE THEM!!! *throws goodie-bags filled with apologies at the raging masses*

Vincent Crescent... The Cetra had worn an odd little smile when she'd told Sephiroth the name, saying that the man in question could help him... Now he knew why.

There was a long period of silence which neither of them broke, sizing each other up as though they were both waiting for the other to attack. And, Sephiroth admitted, he supposed that was exactly what they were waiting for. It was only to be expected from former enemies, after all.

He remembered the gunslinger well, though he looked quite a bit different than he had all those years ago. Really, he looked almost like a Turk, wearing that suit and tie, sitting behind a mahogany wood desk and staring distrustfully at the former SOLDIER. His dark hair had been cropped short, though he still had bangs long enough to fall into his eyes, shadowing the red irises and giving him a familiar brooding look, at odds with the bright, homey office Sephiroth found himself sitting in.

Finally, the tense silence was broken as Sephiroth spoke in a low murmur, "Why would she say you could help me...?" This seemed to catch the gunslinger off-guard, red eyes widening slightly in apparent understanding and slight confusion. The difference in his expression was subtle, but the former general was used to searching out any small changes in situations with which he was unfamiliar.

"Why, indeed... What exactly do you need help with?" Straight to the point, then. Sephiroth supposed he should be grateful that the other hadn't decided on a 'shoot first, ask questions later' approach, but... Now that he was confronted with the matter at hand, he had no idea where to even begin explaining why he'd come here. The Cetra had called it his 'body issues,' but saying that out loud to this man he'd known a lifetime ago seemed...

Clearing his throat slightly, the silver haired man resisted the urge to turn his gaze downward, refusing to show any weakness. Instead, he looked into deep red eyes and said the first thing that came to mind, "I despise my reflection."

Raising a single ebony eyebrow, the older man leaned back in his high-backed leather chair, studying Sephiroth once more. Though his gaze wasn't hostile, it made the ex-General uncomfortable; it felt as though the man's crimson eyes were staring through him, to the very core of his being. He'd thought only Hojo capable of such an invasive gaze...

"What about your reflection do you despise?"

... What? He was actually taking him seriously? Hadn't they been ready to kill each other mere moments ago? Why was the gunslinger-turned-therapist treating Sephiroth like just another one of his patients, like they hadn't been mortal enemies in the past?

Apparently, Sephiroth had taken too long to answer and the other continued, "Is it your face? Your torso, shoulders, chest? What about your legs?" Pausing, eyelids lowered slightly as crimson orbs cast a quick glance down. "... Your genitals?" His tone was surprisingly professional, his expression nonjudgmental.

"Yes," was all he managed to get out, his mind still reeling from the many surprises he'd seen from his former enemy. Some small part of his brain noted that he wasn't exactly acting like himself either, to which another part responded that perhaps that was a good thing and wasn't he trying to start over in a new life anyway? Giving his head a slight shake, he met the other's gaze, a question in his eyes. "How could you possibly have known that...?" Was this why the Cetra had sent him here? Did all of his patients have these sorts of 'body issues?'

"Hmm..." Nodding once, the raven haired man glanced at the simple wall-mounted clock to his left, Sephiroth's gaze automatically following. "It seems my next appointment will be here shortly..." Ah. They'd spent too much time waiting for a fight and now that they were finally having an actual conversation, their time was almost up. Of course. "Perhaps we should continue this discussion over lunch. We really should talk about this now, but the patient I have booked after you is somewhat... Well, let's just say it's best to not keep her waiting. I assume you can find the diner across the street? We can meet there in an hour and continue. Unless you have somewhere else to be?" There was a spark of amusement in his eye when he looked at Sephiroth, lips curling the slightest bit upwards.

Shaking his head, he replied, "No. I will be there. Goodbye." With that, he stood up and made to leave, pausing at the door to cast a curious glance at his former enemy. He walked out with more questions than he'd gone in with, heading straight to the proposed meeting place to wait out the next hour. He had a lot to think about.

~H~V~F~

Vincent watched silently from the floor-to-ceiling window (which served as the back wall of his office) as his most recent patient entered the quiet diner across the street. A part of him cringed at the expanse of clear glass positioned behind his desk, despising the lack of privacy and protection, though he had to admit that it had its uses. While the city skyline was of little interest to him, the third floor office was an excellent vantage point for peering into the diner.

Though the Calamity had been purged, Sephiroth may still be a threat. Vincent would have to go about his counseling very carefully. After all, he'd burned down a town and attempted to destroy the world when he'd learned the supposed 'truth' about his parentage. Who knew what the child of his love might do when Vincent explained the concept of body dysmorphia?

Regardless, the former Turk knew he was going to help his old enemy, if for no other reason than it was what Lucrecia would want. Smiling softly, Vincent turned back to his desk, braided silver strands fresh in his memory as he asked Marlene to send his next patient in.

There was one truth Hojo had told. Sephiroth really did look just like his mother.


End file.
